“Welco! NewBlack!”
As we stepped onto the studio floor, my breath trembled slightly.
The lights were bright, and beyond the caras I could see crew mbers holding sketchpads—just like back ho. Yet the fact that it was live made my heart flutter.
“NewBlack’s first live broadcast appearance, right?”
“Yes! That’s right~!”
We smiled broadly and waved to the cara.
“One, two, three—”
“Hello! We’re NewBlack!”
We greeted cheerfully and did a little shoulder shimmy, instantly brightening the atmosphere.
Perhaps because we’re known as Korea’s national idols, the hosts treated us with great warmth. Even earlier in the green room there had been a commotion:
“Could we get your autograph? My daughter’s a huge fan...! A video call? It’s fine if she’s in class—I’ll make her co out!”
“If it’s okay, can we get a selfie...?”
“So... is NewBlack releasing here in Japan?”
I’m not sure exactly how much, but compared to last year or early this year, our na recognition in Japan had grown considerably. Of course, not all of it was positive. At that anti–Korea news show, our coverage had been extensive, so the general Japanese public’s image of us was, they said, middling.
“They say Japanese people aren’t interested in politics... but you’ve been on those shows so much, they can’t help but know sothing,” Seokhwan hyung had remarked. During our NewBlack TV filming on MyTube, we’d highlighted Korea’s independence movent history, and they’d caused a stir by calling it governnt propaganda or anti–Japan sentint. Now, these sa idols are globally popular—they worried this would backfire.
Still, I’d heard that the general public didn’t hold a negative view—just acknowledged we were doing well. But seeing it in person versus hearing about it secondhand on TV can feel very different. Thus...
‘We’ll use this broadcast to turn recognition into genuine goodwill!’
‘Once they know us, they can’t help but like us~’
Our awareness was there—now we’d steer it positively.
“Acting genius Wang Jiho here~!”
Jiho went first, then Ri Hyuk and Junhyun introduced themselves. Bijoo, shyly smiling, said,
“Cooking genius, Bijoo~”
“Cooking genius! Does that an cooking is your hobby?”
Finally the cara swung to . I struck a V with my fingers at my eye and smiled.
“Language genius, Sun Wooju!”
“Oh, language genius!”
If we’d called ourselves geniuses in Korean, it might’ve felt awkward—but in a foreign language it ca smoothly. We’d decided on these bold intros together. The hosts’ eyes turned to first.
“Language genius, huh? Why did you introduce yourself that way, Uju?”
“This person really...”
Ri Hyuk pointed at and said,
“He can speak any language like a native.”
“Wow, is that true?”
“I’d like to hear it.”
The MCs opened the door, so I rattled off a few lines in Spanish. An “ooo” reaction rippled through the crew—who may not have understood, but sensed it was impressive.
I grinned confidently.
“I’ve prepared a bit of Osaka dialect too.”
“Osaka-ben?”
“Yes!”
For my role in Our Family Are Aliens, I’d watched videos of fruit vendors worldwide, and by algorithm chance I’d seen a Japanese supermarket clerk in Osaka speaking over a loudspeaker. As curious as the hosts and crew looked, I cleared my throat as if through a gaphone.
“Onee, co oiso! Fine goods in store desu!”
Laughter erupted among the hosts. Buoyed, I smiled warmly.
“Today’s eel sale! Fresh eel for a re five hundred million yen—now one hundred percent off to 2,980 yen! King-size discount! This man might just close shop today!”
Even the production staff beyond the cara burst into laughter—definitely a success.
Viewers at ho laughed out loud.
‘What dialect is that?’
It wasn’t a timid imitation—it sounded as if a local had co in person. Especially the expressions—I pictured a middle-aged Osaka vendor hawking goods through a gaphone.
“Hahaha!”
As people from other regions laughed, Osaka viewers reacted with impressed “oh”s.
‘Did they live here?’
Perhaps not alone in that thought, one of the hosts, still chuckling, asked our leader.
“You really sound like you’re from Osaka! Have you ever lived there?”
From within the bear costu, Uju bead with pride.
“No. Not at all.”
“And yet you did that?”
“Yes, I just mimicked the videos I’d seen on MyTube.”
“Truly a language genius—no exaggeration. Amazing.”
Thanks to Uju’s Osaka-level dialect, the hosts’ interest shifted to the others:
“So each of you must have your own special talent?”
“That’s right~!”
Viewers’ curiosity peaked.
‘Who are these guys?’
I’d heard the na NewBlack many tis—K-pop’s hottest idol group among teens, beloved nationwide. They’d even broken into Billboard with Blue Moon. Yet this was my first ti seeing them live. Sothing about them felt extraordinary—beyond their striking features that popped through the screen. I could understand why teens were mimicking their goat-challenge antics.
They turned to Bijoo, now smiling politely.
“Bijoo, is cooking your specialty?”
“Yes, but unfortunately I can’t cook on live TV...”
The main dancer, cute as a rabbit, pouted then brightly declared,
“I’ll express cooking through dance!”
“Wow, that’s great spirit.”
“Music please!”
The four of us began a cappella “dop-dop-dop” harmonies, snapping our fingers, as Bijoo mid making okonomiyaki. It was a picture-perfect dance that sohow made everyone laugh.
Viewers’ eyes widened.
‘So unique.’
Unlike previous Korean idols on Ohayo! Morning Q, they felt like ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ friendly neighborhood pals.
‘Did they benchmark Japanese idols?’
While that thought lingered among so, the focus shifted to Junhyun next.
“You introduced yourself as ‘weather guy,’ right, Junhyun?”
“That’s right. Weather genius.”
With a finger-V accentuating his jaw, our rapper lit up and the others cheered.
“Junhyun nails the weather forecasts!”
“Especially rain—hundred-percent accuracy!”
The host’s eyes popped.
“If that’s true, that’s incredible. Any anecdotes?”
“Once at an event in Icheon, I predicted a shower that no one else saw coming.”
“Impressive!”
Another panelist asked,
“So... if the weather’s bad, do you feel it in your body? Like grandpas and grandmas complaining of back pain?”
As Junhyun stamred, the leader and main vocalist whispered in his ear. He bead and said,
“Intuition. That’s what it is.”
“Incredible. Then can you forecast today’s weather for us?”
“Yes. On my way here, I sniffed the Tokyo air...”
Our rapper drew out a thoughtful “hmm” and declared,
“It will snow today. A lot of snow.”
“Eh? Snow?”
Viewers burst out laughing—because at the top of the screen the weather ticker showed sunny for Tokyo next to the ti [9:39].
“But it’s sunny out.”
“Hmm, is it?”
On a terrestrial morning show, it was safer to treat it as a joke, so the hosts laughed it off. The viewers did too. A housewife ironing at ho peered out her window.
‘Snow? On a clear day like this?’
It wasn’t even cold enough for snow—and Tokyo in winter is usually dry and clear, not snowy. As viewers murmured hopes for snow, the host smiled and added,
“But that was Junhyun’s fun prediction—please take it in good humor!”
As the morning program with the highest local influence, they didn’t want to confuse people—better than viewers complaining “I bought an umbrella because of you!”
anwhile, the interview shifted to personal tidbits.
“I hear you enjoy growing plants, Junhyun? Any current favorites?”
“Yes, I’m growing a cactus nad Johnny the Cactus.”
“Whoa, that’s huge!”
A clip showed his massive cactus in his room, and the panelists laughed. They went on to ask about favorite Japanese foods and the maknae’s sudden growth spurt.
“Now I’m number two!”
“Lies.”
At that, the maknae shot her eyes wide, then muttered sothing in Korean to the main vocalist, who whispered it to Ri Hyuk:
“She wants to asure our heights back-to-back.”
“I refuse.”
Their heights were nearly identical—leading to playful banter that livened up the morning show. Then they moved on to music.
“Are you planning any Japanese-language songs or local releases?”
“Releases?”
“Yes—Uju, you’re Korea’s top composer. You’ve scored Arican film OSTs, and Blue Moon is Billboard’s number-one single.”
Uju smiled.
“Yes. If the opportunity arises, I’d love to release music in Japan. I’d be happy to join any fun project!”
They’d asked about a Japanese debut song, but our leader gracefully steered it toward interest in ani or film projects—likely misunderstanding the question. The host aid to clarify but moved on to another topic.
‘His expression changes when talking music.’
Viewers nodded at Uju’s earnest passion.
‘Like father, like son.’
Indeed, the son of legendary pianist Sun Myeong-ju and rival of Hashimoto Kenji.
With the morning interview concluded, a host holding our album art panel exclaid,
“Now, please enjoy the live performance of Empire—the chart-topping hit from Korea’s super-popular five-mber idol group, NewBlack!”
The cara zood swiftly to the spacious studio center. Clad in lace-trimd outfits, we contrasted white tops with black pants. The leader, headset mic in place, motioned with a trembling-hand gesture and extended his arm.
“Ring the bell
So it echoes far and wide”
Viewers adjusted their volu. From the coquettish interview voices to a commanding stage presence, our vocals filled the room, eliciting spontaneous “wow”s.
‘Korean idols really practice a ton.’
Even the playful maknae now stared fiercely at the cara, moving with precision. With each formation shift, viewers exclaid in admiration—our synchronized moves flawlessly matched.
“Impressive...”
Japanese viewers experienced a thrilling contrast: like five raccoon brothers from an ani, and then suddenly transford on stage. While many Korean idols evoke a similar vibe, this was the first ti they’d seen such extres in one group.
And...
‘Bijoo—that’s her na.’
So viewers’ eyes lingered on our ethereal dancer. They unconsciously typed “Bijoo” into search bars to find her images.
‘What is this?’
A still of a silk-clad red-dancer flinging a long ribbon played like a scene from a movie. As people continued searching, on screen we wiped sweat and smiled.
“How did it feel performing live on broadcast today?”
“It was amazing.”
The leader spoke for us, microphone in hand:
“We were so happy to et our fans in Japan and all the viewers here. Thank you!”
“Thank you!”
We exited the stage, and Morning Q instantly moved to the next segnt.
Outside, commuters on trains, patrons in restaurants, and convenience-store custors watching on their phones all sniffed in the cold and tapped their screens.
“Today’s weather...”
Because of Junhyun’s confident forecast, Tokyo citizens examined their weather apps.
‘No way.’
On a bright December day, by 10:30 a.m. flakes were drifting down. First the sky darkened, then snowballs began falling over the tropolis—a beautiful yet eerie sight. As the weather agency issued an ergency alert, people blinked in disbelief.
“Snow?”
Everyone checked their phones frantically. Soon “NewBlack Junhyun” surged as a top trending search across Japan.
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